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CLOUDS 



CLOUDS 



FRANCIS LEE DAINGERFIELD 

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BOSTON 
THE GORHAM PRESS 

1917 



* 



Copyright 1917, by Francis Lee Daingerfield 



All Rights Reserved 



The Gorham Press, Boston, U. S. A. 

SEP 13 1917 



©CJ.A476066 



TO 
ELEA 

Sprung from my heart, 

These little seeds. 
Some of them flowers, 

Some of them weeds. 
Cull what you wish 

And leave the rest, 
As hope seeds itself 

In the human breast. 



CONTENTS 



CLOUDS 

Page 

The Echo of Silence - - -. - g 

Sleep 10 

Unrest - - - - - - - II 

Death 12 

A Wish 13 

A Song ------ 14 

The Dark - - 15 

The Blind Soul 16 

Hope - - - - - - 17 

Could You But See 18 

// / Knew ------- 19 

Must I Wait and Watch - - - - 20 

Let not the Sun Go Down 21 

Just to Sleep 22 

It Will Pass - - - ' - - - 23 

The Pit ------ 24 

Lady Sleep 25 



TORN MASKS 

In the Way 29 

Wuz you Born with a Silver Spoon in Yo' Mouth 30 

The Pessimist - - - - - 31 

The Winnowing ----- 32 

A Blind Garden 33 

The Night Wound ----- 34 

The Red Rose ----- 35 

The Cheat - - - - - 36 

Get Thee Gone Black Thoughts ~ - 37 



PATHS 

In the Desert - - - - - - 41 

Twilight 42 

A Summer Night ----- 43 

Destiny ------- 44 

To the Sun ------ 45 

The Summer Shower - 46 

Afterglow - - - - 47 

Motif 48 

Shame -------- v 49 

Aphorisms ------ 50 

P^w Cocktails - - - - - -51 



CLOUDS 



Clouds are the sorrows of the sun, 

As the rainbow is his smile at his own tears. 



THE ECHO OF SILENCE 

Can't you see 

When I gaze into your eyes? 
Don't you know 

With the knowledge you are near? 
Can't you feel 

The song of pleasure singing in my heart ? 

Ah, — now I know you care — 

For I hear the distant echo from your soul. 



SLEEP 

Sweet is thy name, 

And musical 
As the Waters of Fulfillment 

Rippling o'er the tiny pebbles of Desire. 
When I see thee 

Tripping down a silver moonbeam, 
With sandals wrought of angel's sighs, 

And garment — the gossamer of dreams — 
Then, I know thee, 

E'er thou passeth by the Way of Peace 
Into the House of Rest. 



10 



UNREST 

All tossed about on the sea of great unrest, 
Never to reach the wave that has the crest. 
While fickle wants rush madly through my brain, 
Like a March wind upon the weathervane. 
And so, until this fitful life is o'er, 
To know myself is all I ask, no more. 



DEATH 

Oh, sunless sea, — 

Whither man goes forth 
In silence and alone, 

As one called by an unknown force, 
Unties his oarless bark, — 

And sets out upon thy dark waters. 
O, Eternity! 



12 



A WISH 

To live, to breathe, — to enjoy God's fresh air; 

To feel the blood pulsating through the vein ; 
To welcome youthful joy and banish care ; 

To do for others and spurn selfish gain. 

To love, — Ah, yes, — to love with all my being, 
To never cause another tear nor sigh; 

To do my duty faithfully, — God seeing, — 
This is the life I wish, — and then to die. 



13 



A SONG 

Deep, deep may it be, 

And the toil hard, 
To gain for life a smile. 

Yet, through the night, 

In the mystic light, 
A mocking-bird sings awhile. 

When it stops, do we dread 

The broken thread? 
Oh, no, — it must beguile ; 

For a sigh would mar 

Even a star; 
And a star is ever a smile. 



14 



THE DARK 

I don't know what to do. 

I've asked for a light; 
But no one will answer. 

It's they who are blind, 
I know I am right. 

Right to fight 
For a light and life. 

I'm young and groping; 
Please, a light 

To see the way clear 
For happiness and song. 

They are dumb. 
If / want to sing, 

Am I wrong? 



15 



THE BLIND SOUL 

Seeking, blindly seeking, 

Stumbling — groping here. 
Calling, dumbling calling, 

Trembling — falling — fear ! 
As the moon is to the sun, 

As the night is to the day, 
So my thoughts are to the future. 

Is there naught to show life's way ? 



16 



HOPE 

I seek thee, Hope, — 

And, all the morn without thee, 
Sadly follow on 

Until the noonday heat is passed. 
Then eventide, — 

And night falls fast. 
So, like a meteor in the sky, 

Wandering on to find thee, — die. 



17 



COULD YOU BUT SEE 

Could you but see, 

By the light within my eyes, 
The fires immortal. 

The secret that lies 
Behind the sun is there, 

Could you but see. 
I'd give them all 

For your tranquility. 



18 



IF I KNEW 

If I knew that silence did not mean neglect, 

If I knew you. 
If I could see straight through your eyes 
Down where the unborn thoughts arise, 

That you were true. 
If I knew, if I but knew. 



19 



MUST I WAIT AND WATCH 

Must I wait and watch 

All through the day? 
And through the night 

Must I weep and pray ? 
Must I know naught else 

Save sorrow, pain, despair? 
Must I never know if you care ? 



20 



LET NOT THE SUN GO DOWN 

Let not the sun go down 

Upon thy wrath. 
Whoe'er thou art, 

At eventide 
Let peace abide 

Within thy heart. 

Let not the darkness come 

And find thee here 
Without a light. 

For, after all, 
There'll be a call 

To someone in the night. 



21 



JUST TO SLEEP 

To sleep beneath the violets — 

To sleep beneath the roses — 
To sleep beneath the poppies — 

Even to sleep beneath the leaves. 
But, to sleep beneath the snow, 

And to believe that each flake is the frozen tear 
Of an Angel in prayer — 

God is wondrous kind to give us all this beauty 
And not awaken us. 



22 



IT WILL PASS 

It will pass, 

Even a perfect day 
And then, 

We must go on 
And finish. 

And then — 
We must go on and on 

Until the close of time. 
All will pass. 



23 



THE PIT 

O, God, can I call, 

Dost Thou hear ? 
Omnipotent One, 

Lend Thine ear. 
A heart is calling, 

Broken and crushed, 
A soul is falling, 

Silent and hushed. 



24 



LADY SLEEP 

O, Sleep, sweet Sleep, — fairest mistress of all 
O, Sleep, dear Sleep — hear my call. 
I have wooed thee in such various ways, 
Bring me the night and take the days. 
O, gentle maid, hear now my cry, 
Take me for thine own, e'en tho' I die. 
Come now while I am all alone, 
Come and show me the way home. 
Home, where all the cares are laid aside, 
Come, fair queen, and be my bride. 
With thy kind hand smoothe away regrets, — 
In thy strong arms my brain all pain forgets. 
And, with thy kiss, my soul insenate steep, 
Leave me no more — O, My Lady Sleep — 



25 



TORN MASKS 



Pluck not the frail, unshaken truth — 
From out the heart of noble Youth. 



IN THE WAY 

May be I'm wrong, but I loved them so, 

Now, that I've got to go. 
Maybe I'm wrong. 

Maybe I thought they loved me too, 
Maybe I'm wrong. 

Maybe I thought I had a place 
In what they call home, 

But — maybe I'm wrong. 
Maybe I'm only in the way, 

It's just their look, 
Not what they say, 

Yet, maybe I'm wrong. 

I believe in a God and all of those things, 

With Hope and Peace and all that it brings. 
Still, maybe; maybe I'm wrong. 



29 



WUZ YOU BORN WITH A SILVER SPOON 
IN YO' MOUTH 

Wuz you born with a silver spoon in yo' mouth ? 

I wuz. 
Wuz you brought up to think only of others? — 
never yo'self ? 

I wuz. 
She who taught me all muz love, 

Has many a year gone above. 
I wuz left, — 

I wuz. 



30 



THE PESSIMIST 

When life is dear in its roseate morn, 
Watch, you fool, for the coming storm! 

When youth is glad and your spirits high, 
Look to the West for the clouding sky! 

For what you get, you have to give. 
As that is the debt you pay to live. 

And every day of joy you gain 
Only precedes its night of pain. 

So a tear or laugh, a sigh or smile, 

Is what we call life ; — is it really worth while ? 



31 



THE WINNOWING 

Winnow, winnow my poor soul 

And leave the husk, 
Winnow all the gold 

And leave the dross. 
When all the good that's in me 

Has been flailed and beaten out, 
Will you be satisfied? 

Take all my pride, 
You cannot winnow love 

Too frail to stand the bruising, 
It remains behind, crushed and worthless, 

Only to be cast aside. 
Winnow all — then — you'll be satisfied. 



& 



A BLIND GARDEN 

A certain man once had a garden, in which there 
was one plant he prized above all the others, altho' 
it would never bloom. 

A passerby one day noticed a bud, and asked 
the man for it. 

He gave the bud to the stranger, thinking that 
other blossoms would soon appear. 

But it blossomed no more, for the bud was Love. 



33 



THE NIGHT WOUND 

Like the frozen breath of the Winter night 

The little white clouds passed over the Moon. 
Do you remember, do you remember? 

And Pierrot played a wily tune, 

Pierrot the buffoon. 
For his heart was sad and his thoughts were mad, 

Poor Pierrot the buffoon. 
As the Crescent paled white in the western sky 
Like the vesper light where the dying lie. 

Poor Pierrot the buffoon 
He laid him down with a sigh, 
He threw a kiss to the western sky. 

The stars that watched heard him say, 
"You have taken my heart and thrown my body 
away!" 

Poor Pierrot, poor buffoon. 



34 



THE RED ROSE 

Thou torch of mad desire, 

Purity knows naught of thee; — 
Thy color ever gratifying to love that's unrestrained 

Wakes in me a strange curiosity. 
Is it a passion for some stained soul that fell with 
thee, 

And died with that last kiss 
Breathing its guilty love upon thy lips 

E'er life was gone, 
To leave thee thus, as a reminder of thy eternal 
wrong ? 

Thou must upon the breast of some Francesca 
lain, 
And to a passion such as hers 

Seemed almost driven snow. 
No love relinquished hast thou known, until attained, 

At once the desire and fulfillment of the same. 
Again I ask thee, — whence thy color came? 



35 



THE CHEAT 

We play to-day, 

We laugh to-morrow. 
Then you are gone 

And leave us sorrow. 

Now you are gone. 

Like sheep we bleat, 
Yet Life, the cheat, 

Gives the winner. 

To-morrow. 



36 



GET THEE GONE BLACK THOUGHTS 

Get thee gone black thoughts, 

That, as the Night wears on, the blacker seem. 
Get thee gone 

Until the Morn, 
When the Sun will lessen thee 

As he does the magnified and mist-enshrouded 
Objects 
Of mine eye. 

Get thee gone until the Day. 



37 



PATHS 



Little paths through memory's wood. 



IN THE DESERT 

To pause, to gaze, 

To look beyond into a cloudless sky ; 
To then press forward to oblivion. 

To know each footprint left behind 
Is like the hour, — passing, gone, — 

Covered by a searing wind 
That blows the sands of time. 

And then, to go on 
Into the very eye of the sun. 



4i 



TWILIGHT 

We sat together, you and I, 
At this sweet sunset hour, 
And, silently, the fading light 

Told that the day must die. 

We deeply felt, just you and I, 
The saddest time of day, 
The star sublime, the noble pine, 

The breezes gentle sigh. 

We understood, just you and I, 
So perfectly each thought 
That passes out from soul to soul, 

When only night is nigh. 

Again the scene, but only one 
Watches the western sky, 

And knows another day is done, 
Not you, just only I. 



42 



A SUMMER NIGHT 

The cool, damp air from the rain on the grass — 

The chirp of the friendly cricket — 
The occasional stamping of the cattle — 

The snort of the happy horse — 
The mellow "to — wit, to — who" of the owl — 

In the distance, a train which drowsily puffs itself 
into oblivion — 
Still closer, the singing of the nightingale — 

As the moon slips away for fear of content. 
Now the wind comes and blows the dream toys over. 



43 



DESTINY 

Now it is late. 

The silver moon 
Stops a moment in her path to say, — 

Why do you think, Youth? 
Tell me, who knows all, — 

Before there is all. 
I am she who knew you before you were. 

I am she who knew you before the sun grew red. 
I am she who makes death grow life. 

It is I who make the fullness of time grow shallow. 

By making the Just satisfied. 

Knowing neither life nor death, 

I can but be the satisfaction of the one 
And the hope of the other. 

Tell me, — Youth, — 
Why do you think? 



44 



TO THE SUN 

Stately, Oh, Father of all things, 

You take your rest. 
Stately, on the pillow of a golden cloud, 

You lay your crest. 
More stately still, on an opal morn, 

You seem refreshed. 
And stateliest, from a noon-day sky, 

We call you blessed. 



45 



THE SUMMER SHOWER 

I love to He in bed, 

And hear the rain, 

Against the pane, 
For the earth is being fed, 
And the long, hot day is dead, 

'Till the sun comes up again. 

I love to hear them call 

Me, soft and low, 

While down they go. 
As answered prayers, they fall, 
Giving life to one and all 

Of the creatures here below. 

Then, on the coming morn, 

After the night, 

See flowers bright, 
Which were thirsty and forlorn. 
Now the weary look is gone, 

As they hail the coming light. 



4 6 



AFTERGLOW 

Now the day is passed, 

And, after all, 
I wonder if the call 

Will come to me. 
That I will see the light 

After the night, 
Assuredly. 

Now the day is passed, 
And all is still. 

I wonder if some ill 
Has changed my destiny, 

And, even tho' I pray, 
I'll not see that day 

Once made for me. 



47 



MOTIF 

Just to be at the window this Spring night — 
The frog in the swamp croaks his solo, 

'Till the crickets in the meadow bring in the chorus, 
Then the soft whistle of a boat on the quiet river 

Blending with that of a train in the valley. 
All this is the harmony of the Eternal Opera. 

Which is writ by Night and set to music by Nature. 



4 8 



SHAME 

The word means nothing and everything. 

It is but part of Man's thought, 
And the whole of his conscience. 

Is conscience the echo of fear ? 
If so, and I know not fear, 

Where can I find conscience, 
Except in selfishness? 

To be ashamed 
Is to deny myself to live, without thinking. 

To think is the puff of wind 
That puts out the light of originality ; 

Thus I must return to the darkness of influence. 
Why should I be ashamed ? 



49 



THE APHORISIMS 

Daring to change a life is trying to rebuild a 
fallen city. 

But, with Conscience as the architect, can we not 
replace the sundried brick? 

Making this, by Desire, stone, then, by Will, 
marble. 

The house hidden from itself is the house which 
never opens its windows to the call of a stranger — 

Because the voice without is real and its own 
an echo. 

The sun rises for the blind, who see not, and the 
bird sings for the deaf, who hear not — 

And both are the kisses of God's salvation. 



50 



PEN COCKTAILS 

Hope is a little bird singing in the rain. 

Life is the kindergarten for the soul. 

Peace is that state in which all of our nerves are 

neutral. 
Sleep is the dress rehearsal for death. 
Death is the poem of life set to music. 
Death is the great beginning. 
Death is the curse of Love — Love is the curse of 

Death. 
To live for another is to die for oneself. 
Blind faith is curious. 

God is the consummation of all that we want. 
A true Christian is God's dog. 
What we love in others is what we cannot respect in 

ourselves. 
Sentiment is the froth off the sea of affection. 
The stars are the lighthouses on the way to God. 
Snow is the tears of the angels frozen by pity. 
Sincerity rusts with time. 

Enthusiasm for making new friends often means 
neglect of old ones. 

Negligence is the frost in the garden of love. 

Resolution is the enemy of love. 

51 



Laughter puts the seal on a broken heart, 
Folly helps to hide it. 

The child that is born with a silver spoon in its 
mouth is all very well as long as it has the spoon. 

Not young enough to look to the future, 

Not old enough to care for the past. 

Fear bears the same relation to respect 
That pity does to love. 

Habit is a mental loafer. 

The tears of a fool are the pearls of a sage. 

The man that seems clever to others is often a bore 
to himself. 

Twilight is the kiss of day and night. 

When madness is the theme, 
Let folly hold the pen. 

The monkey is God's laugh at man. 

A teaser is the son of fun and satire. 

Punctuation is the thief of time. 

The sense for the clever, the sentence for the fool. 

Diet is the religion of the stomach. 

A chill is a mental cold bath. 

A yawn is a punctuation in conversation. 

The bee is the gossip that carries the scandal to the 

flowers. 
When one thrusts sleep aside as an enemy, 

One gains genius as a friend. 

52 



The most unselfish art in the world is that of 

writing, 
Because one gives to others that which can never be 

returned. 
To-day, Winter put her frozen finger to the lips of 

Nature — 

And Summer stole away. 
Influence should be as silent as snow falling in a 

forest. 



53 



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